Disciples of a Feather
by pepperdadog
Summary: Just another night in the life of Sander Cohen's four disciples: Fitzpatrick, Rodriguez, Finnegan, and Cobb. Becoming a series of one-shots. Warning: Some guy/guy romance but I'm not good at writing romance so not much to worry about.
1. What Family's For

**Bioshock (c) 2K games**

**I wrote this totally on whim and because the notable LACK of fics on Cohen's disciples, so don't expect it to be great since I finished it in under an hour. I fell in love with Fitzpatrick when I heard him on the piano and the other guys are cool too. Below are their ages that I took a total guess at by checking out their pictures on the BioshockWiki.**

**Kyle Fitzpatrick – 24; Hector Rodriguez – 37; Martin Finnegan – 41; Silas Cobb – 35**

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Kyle watched the booth that looked down at the stage where Cohen was packing his things up for the day. In a few minutes he'd be aloud to get up and stretch his legs for the first time in almost fifteen hours. Just the thought of getting up and walking down to get something to eat sounded like a walk in Arcadia. Regardless of his anticipation he continued to practice on the piano; Cohen hated it when his disciples stopped before he let them. Finally the older man appeared at the top of the stairs, his hat and coat in hand, and a smirk on his face.

"You don't honestly call _that_ music, do you Fitzpatrick?"

"I, well… No."

"No, what?"

"No, sir. I don't call that music," Kyle said sadly.

"I'm glad we agree Fitzpatrick; perhaps you should stay late?"

"Yes sir."

Cohen's smirk broadened and he turned to leave, stopping to turn off the lights in the auditorium so only the stage was illuminated, "Have a nice night, Fitzpatrick. And I better not hear about you leaving this room."

"Thank you sir," Kyle said as the door slid shut behind Cohen, "for nothing."

By the time the announcement came over the loudspeakers that midnight was close, Fitzpatrick was nearly asleep on his instrument. His head bobbed along slowly with the tune he was playing and his eyes began to shut. When he couldn't take it anymore he let his forehead rest against the piano top and fell asleep.

As the young man slept a group of people slipped into the theater. Three of them wielded pistols and machine guns, another three carried pipes and wrenches, and only one of them held nothing except red embers that glowed in the palms of his hands. The seven of them spread out and surrounded the pianist, their intentions not being on letting him wake up ever again. The fire wielding splicer jumped to the upper floor and circled around. The Houdini of the group reared back to send a fire ball at the dynamite covered piano when his arm was suddenly encased in ice.

"Go ahead and try boy, I'll be more than happy to freeze the rest of you," Feet away with ice growing in spikes out of his skin, was Martin Finnegan, another of Cohen's disciples and known as the Iceman to any splicer who saw him and lived.

The Houdini stood there, unsure of what to do before turning and jumping away, leaving nothing but a red cloud behind. Finnegan was satisfied that he's scared the splicer enough, but when a flaming hook struck his back things got serious. Shots were exchanged from both sides, but fire melts ice and things weren't looking good for the Iceman as his opponent advanced.

"I'm getting to old for this shit," Finnegan grumbled as he crouched behind an overturned chair and stabbed two EVE hypos under his frozen skin. "Silas better hurry up with those pets of his."

A level bellow the other six splicers were wondering where their friend went when Molotovs smacked the walls near them. They scattered in fear and one went down in the flames, another tripped over a trap wire and didn't get up. The remaining four were scared and disoriented; as fear took over they began to turn against one another. In the distance Hector Rodriguez rolled another Molotov around in his hand until it lit, tossed it at them, and laughed as their flesh burned off their faces. With that done he headed to the stage to check on the youngest disciple.

"Cobb!" Finnegan called to the other disciple. If that bastard didn't hurry he was going to end up a fresh roasted Iceman.

"Keep ya head on gramps. The kittens are here," Silas Cobb said lazily as he leaned against the wall next to Finnegan. "Gett'um for daddy ladies."

Four splicers dropped from the ceiling onto the bewildered Houdini; their skin was on fire and they took swings at him with their hooks. After he went down they began to drop one by one until the last fell over the railing and crushed her head on the lap of a clapping couple. The man and woman didn't notice since it's hard to realize what's going on around you if you're trapped in mounds of plaster. Cobb offered Finnegan a hand up, but the older disciple smacked it away, earning a puff of steam from the contact of ice on fire. This made Cobb laugh and haul the man to his feet regardless.

"Yer welcome," Silas said under his breath as Finnegan stormed off.

"Kyle? Kyle! Damn it kid, wake up!" Hector shook Kyle by the shoulders gently before he started to wake.

"What?"

"Damn kid, you had us worried for a minute. Good thing we came in to check on you or those splicers would've blown you to kingdom come!" Hector laughed. Looking down at the other disciple he saw his legs were plastered to the chair. "Cohen keeping you on lock-down now?"

"Oh, uhhh… Kind of, I fell asleep in the audience a few nights ago and he didn't like that. Now, what are you talking about, what splicers?"

By then Cobb and Finnegan had jumped down and were leaning on the piano, or Finnegan was since he didn't have to worry about his body heat setting off the dynamite. "You honestly mean to tell me that you slept through all of that? Sisters preserve me kid, you sleep like a rock!"

The four chatted for a few minutes more before Kyle began to zone again. The others let rest his head before settling in themselves.

"Aren't you guys going," Kyle yawned, "home for the night?"

"We could, or we could sit here on the cold, hard floor and make sure you don't get killed by some Atlas-loving splicer." Hector said and flopped down next to the piano, letting his head rest on Kyle's seat.

"Sisters forbid, but this place is actually a lot nicer than where I usually sleep," Finnegan laughed and sprawled out across the stage.

"Meh, I've got work to do in the area tomorrow. It'll save me the walk just to stay." Cobb said as he lay back in one of the chairs in the audience.

When the announcement came over the loudspeakers that Fort Frolic would be opening soon, Kyle shot up and looked around. The other disciples were long gone, the only sign that they'd been there at all was the stack of bodies at the base of the stage. Not being able to stand to get food was a problem until he realized there was a bottle of spirits, an EVE hypo, and two bars resting on the ground next to him. He ate and drank happily, but saved the hypo for incase more splicers did come. Even though he knew if they did, his family would be there to back him up.

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**I don't know why but Finnegan struck me as someone who'd think the Little Sisters to be godlike and would end up worshiping them; I mean, the man drank blood, there's obviously something wrong with him. I also thought it would be cute to make them kind of like a family (don't ask me why, I'm weird like that).**

**This is a Rapture Reminder: The frozen meat locker is off limits to anyone who would like to live.**


	2. Valentine's Day

**Originally, ****Disciples of a Feather**** was supposed to be disciple/disciple, but I wrote the first chapter and forgot to put any in. I wrote this in under an hour, so don't get super picky about grammar or plot or anything, okay? **

**The only thing you need to know about Mekata is that she's an older version of a Little Sister and she's not mentally stable, she can't grasp most things and is considered Cohen's property.**

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There was once a chance I didn't take, but that's all about to change. I got my second chance and I ain't about to let it slip by again. If my calendar serves me right – which it usually has in the past – then today's Valentine's Day and I'm planning something special. Last year I tried to play him a piece, but that was when he and Cohen suffered a huge falling out, so it only upset him. This year I got him something he'll like for sure, a bottle of nice scotch that I swiped from Cohen's room when he was away.

"Mrrgph!" I poked at Hector's arm and waited for him to look up from the counter in Eve's Garden. "What the hell you want?"

"H-happy… Happy uhmmm," I managed before he snatched the scotch from my hands, ripped the nice bow off, and began to chug it. "O-okay then…"

I walked out of the bar with my hands in my pockets and my eyes down cast, a few Atlas followers spit at me and a few Ryan worshipers poked fun, but I trudged back to the theater. Mekata was already there and stretching on stage; she smiled when I came in, completely oblivious to what happened. I sat down at the piano and explained what I did. She chewed her lip for a moment before sitting next to me. At the base of the stage I could see the Mister Bubbles assigned to her fidgeting with his rivet gun so I stood up.

"Maybe you should try insulting him; that's what Mama Tenenbaum and Papa Suchong do," That was the problem with Mekata, she doesn't understand the way normal people work.

"I'll keep it in mind. Thanks kid," I said and forced a smile, she beamed back.

Over the next ten hours or so Cohen ran us both ragged. He ran me through my all of my music and made me start over if I missed a note, I was so worked up over my own issue that I didn't know Mekata collapsed until the Mister Bubbles in the room started roaring at Cohen. After that he took her back to the Sister's Orphanage and I was given the rest of the day off, since my plan had failed earlier I didn't have much to do so I stayed a bit longer to nail some parts that were getting me. Cohen left early saying Tenenbaum was expecting him to extend Mekata's lease. It was getting late when I heard the door shut and someone come walking up behind me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when arms draped over my shoulders, "Hey knuckle head."

"H-hi, Mister Rodriguez," I could smell the scotch on him, like he'd bathed in it rather than drink it.

"Fuck that shit Kyle," His head rested on my shoulders. "Thanks."

"Sure thing, Hector," I said and continued to play my piece.

His arms retracted from me and covered his ears, "I _know_ I ain't hearin' one of the ol' fruit's songs coming outta that piano right now."

I quickly switched to a slow song Cohen hadn't written.

"Better, defiantly better."

He rested back down and I could feel him tapping along with the rhythm. My heart was pounding in my ears and the song began to speed up, but he reached out and swatted my hands, mumbling something under his breath about taking it to fast. The closer I got to the end of the song the more I could feel him straightening up to leave. As soon as I hit the last note I plunged into another song, this time faster. It worked, he stayed and listened longer, but soon that song was on the verge of ending too and I didn't remember any others that weren't written by Cohen.

"Thanks for the show kid, and thanks for the drink," His hands rubbed over my shoulders as he turned to leave. "Oh, one more thing."

All of a sudden something wet pressed against my cheek.

"Happy _early_ Valentine's Day."

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**This is a Rapture Reminder: All city regulated calendars can be purchased at any Circus of Value around the city for limited time. Get one while supplies last!**


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